- Oct 28, 2022
- 328
- 140
- 43
// @GENTLESTORM
The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting long, jagged shadows across the camp, only seeming to deepen the silence that blankets the sleeping clan. The cool night air does nothing to soothe Stormywing's nerves. It only sharpens her senses, her golden eyes flicking toward the medicine den as if drawn by an invisible thread. She can almost hear Wrathpaw's breath in the stillness, feel the pounding of his heart under her claws if she dared to get close enough.
Exile isn’t enough. Not for Pebblestep. Not for what Wrathpaw had taken from her. Her paws itch with the need for vengeance, a deep, gnawing hunger that no amount of justice can fill. What good was exile? It let him live, breathing the same air her brother no longer could. No, tonight would be different. Tonight, she would end him herself, and finish what she’d started. She creeps forward, manic tears stinging her eyes as she moves like a shadow, careful to avoid the moonlight. The camp is silent. Everyone trusts her, everyone believes she is still asleep. But sleep had become impossible. Her heart beats like a war drum in her chest, every pulse a reminder of what she’s about to do.
Wrathpaw would pay.
She reaches the mouth of the medicine den, her nervous breaths mounting. One pawstep inside the herb-scented den, then two - her claws slide out, their points gleaming in the dim light. He won’t see it coming. He doesn’t deserve to.
But before she can take another step, a soft voice breaks the silence, freezing her in place.
The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting long, jagged shadows across the camp, only seeming to deepen the silence that blankets the sleeping clan. The cool night air does nothing to soothe Stormywing's nerves. It only sharpens her senses, her golden eyes flicking toward the medicine den as if drawn by an invisible thread. She can almost hear Wrathpaw's breath in the stillness, feel the pounding of his heart under her claws if she dared to get close enough.
Exile isn’t enough. Not for Pebblestep. Not for what Wrathpaw had taken from her. Her paws itch with the need for vengeance, a deep, gnawing hunger that no amount of justice can fill. What good was exile? It let him live, breathing the same air her brother no longer could. No, tonight would be different. Tonight, she would end him herself, and finish what she’d started. She creeps forward, manic tears stinging her eyes as she moves like a shadow, careful to avoid the moonlight. The camp is silent. Everyone trusts her, everyone believes she is still asleep. But sleep had become impossible. Her heart beats like a war drum in her chest, every pulse a reminder of what she’s about to do.
Wrathpaw would pay.
She reaches the mouth of the medicine den, her nervous breaths mounting. One pawstep inside the herb-scented den, then two - her claws slide out, their points gleaming in the dim light. He won’t see it coming. He doesn’t deserve to.
But before she can take another step, a soft voice breaks the silence, freezing her in place.